


Sweaty Skin and Satisfied Smiles

by FluffyGremlin



Series: Bulletproof [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGremlin/pseuds/FluffyGremlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets a booboo and convinces Derek to kiss it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweaty Skin and Satisfied Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> I'd call this hurt/comfort but it really isn't. It's pretty much extra-kinky frottage.

Stiles sighs as Derek pushes him down onto the couch and kneels in front of him. “Do we have to do this? I’m tired and a mountain lion that was _actually_ a mountain lion and _not_ a rogue psychopath tried to rip my face off and...”

His words are muffled by Derek’s hand. He tries to continue whining via his eyebrows but Derek’s single raised brow quelles his own into silence. Derek keeps his hand in place as he uses his other to pull aside the collar of Stiles’ torn t-shirt, exposing the marks left behind by the large cat.

“Just a scratch,” Stiles says after Derek moves his hand away. The other man just snorts through his nose before sitting back on his heels. “Kinda owwie though,” he rubs at his neck and winces dramatically. “Wanna kiss it and make it feel better?”

Derek gives him the ‘Derek Hale Full Body Eyeroll of Doom (patent pending)’ and sits back up, hands resting on either side of Stiles on the couch. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you want to kiss?” Derek just shrugs and leans in to press a quick kiss on the side of Stiles’ mouth. The teen huffs out a laugh before reaching forward and hauling Derek back in by the lapels of his leather jacket. He bites at the older man’s mouth until he opens wide enough for Stiles to slip his tongue inside. Derek groans around him, sitting up further and pressing towards Stiles, forcing him to spread his knees so Derek can get closer.

Stiles whines into Derek’s mouth when the man grabs his hips and pulls him forward slightly. He can feel his cock going from interested to **interested** as soon as the other man’s hands dig in. His whine changes in pitch when Derek pulls away.

“We shouldn’t,” the other man says although he doesn’t stop massaging Stiles’ hips through his jeans.

“We totally absolutely should.” Stiles tries to shake his head and nod at the same time.

“No...”

“Lalala... I can’t hear you over the chorus of ‘yes please now’ going on in my head.” Stiles tries to pull Derek forward again and gets him close enough to feel his breath on his face. “Did I mention the please?”

Derek’s hands dig into his hips one more time before he lets go completely and pulls away to stand up. Stiles can feel an epicly childish pout coming on until he realizes that Derek is simply shedding a layer, leather jacket getting tossed onto the coffee table. He stops with his hands resting on the hem of his henley and looks at Stiles, hesitating.

“Wha...” Stiles tries to reach forward and gets his hands slapped away. “Open sesame? Abracadabra? Shazam?”

“What is wrong with you? As a person?”

“Please worked fairly well I figured I’d try some other magic words?” Stiles shrugs and winces as his shirt rubs on the scratches.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek sighs, reaching down to grab the hem of Stiles’ shirt and tugging at it gently until Stiles assists him in removing it.

“You said that already.” Stiles leans back and affects a massive pout when Derek moves to sit beside him, thighs barely brushing. The older man reaches forward and runs his fingertips lightly over the worst of the cuts, curling them in slightly once he reaches the end and scratching them further along Stiles’ chest. “Hnh... Please.”

Derek pulls back and drops his hands onto his lap. “Sorry, sorry. We can’t.” 

“ _Can._ ” Stiles looks at Derek like he’s an idiot. “Three stitches do not a mortal injury make. No, stop, shush.” Stiles twists on the couch and reaches forward and to cover Derek’s mouth with one hand. “I don’t care if I have to strip down and climb you like a very attractive Mount Rushmore. _We_ ,” Stiles gestures between them with his other hand, “are having sexy fun times.”

The older man reaches up and grabs both of Stiles’ wrists, uncovering his mouth. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again, snorting out a laugh through his nose when Stiles pout at him more. He rubs his thumbs in circles over Stiles’ pulse points as the teenager shifts closer to him.

“I’m not broken,” Stiles says a bit softer as Derek continues rubbing his wrists. “I’m not even cracked a little. Ah ah ah, no.” He speaks over Derek as the other man tries to argue more. “I know you want to so how about you just ignore my little ouchie and we move on to the naked part of tonight’s programming?” He raises his eyebrows and nods a few times as Derek’s face moves from stubborn stubbornness into something a bit more appreciative of the half naked teenaged boy throwing himself at him. “Good boy,” Stiles smirks before pulling away and standing up.

Derek just watches, hands back in his lap, as Stiles undoes the button on his jeans and slides the zipper down slowly. The werewolf’s nostrils flare slightly when Stiles groans at the Mel Gibson levels of freedom cries his cock gives when he pulls the jeans down.

“Why are you not getting naked?” Stiles asks after kicking his jeans aside. Derek just shrugs and sits back further onto the couch, reaching up to clasp his fingers behind his head in a way Stiles is totally and completely sure has nothing to do with casualness and everything to do with the way Stiles is now staring at his chest and biceps. “You are a bad man,” Stiles snickers as Derek gives him a once over and lifts an eyebrow expectantly.

“A bad man you want to climb like Mount Rushmore?” Stiles bites on his tongue to stop himself from sticking it out and instead focuses on sliding down his boxers in what he hopes is a ‘sexy yet subtle’ and not ‘geeky and not subtle’ sort of way. Derek’s eyes start flickering all over him and Stiles feels himself flushing as he steps closer. 

He leans forward and runs his hands along Derek’s bent arms until he reaches his chest. “An _attractive_ Mount Rushmore.” Stiles kisses the hinge of Derek’s jaw, first one side and then the other, back again until Derek starts to shift his head to find Stiles’ mouth. The teen pulls back and keeping one foot on the floor, he kneels over one of Derek’s thighs and settles onto it, pushing forward slightly until his cock brushes against the soft fabric of the other man’s shirt.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans, moving his arms so he can grab Stiles’ hips and force him to practically ride the other man’s thigh as he shifts.

Stiles moans into Derek’s mouth and reaches up to grab the man’s hair, pulling on it and forcing him to meet Stiles’ eyes. “Yes.” Derek grunts, rocking Stiles on his thigh more as their mouths meet again in a biting, needy kiss. Stiles’ cock slides along Derek’s shirt each time he rocks forward and the softness quickly has him moaning and wanting more. “Please,” he manages before Derek’s tongue is back in his mouth. The teen tightens his grip on Derek’s hair as the man starts to fuck his mouth in the same rhythm as his thigh is shifting under Stiles, hands moving until one is at the small of Stiles’ back, urging him on, and the other has slipped around to curl lightly around Stiles’ hard cock.

Jeans rubbing against his ass, soft henley against the head of his cock, and Derek’s hand in a limp circle. Stiles whimpers, pulling back and forcing Derek to look at him again. “What do you need?” the other man asks softly, as if he can’t feel the way Stiles is trying to fuck his loose fist.

“More,” Stiles manages, shuddering and biting back a shout when Derek tightens both hands, fingers digging into his back as his fist grips Stiles firmly. They lean in at the same time as Derek starts to pump, each movement matching up with the way their tongues and teeth come together. “Oh my god,” Stiles grits out between kisses, “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna...” Something rumbles in Derek’s chest and suddenly Stiles shouts when the man’s hand tightens even harder, his thigh stopping, his eyes flashing.

“Not. Yet.” He doesn’t relax his grip even as he reaches up to pull Stiles into another biting kiss, the teen moaning into his mouth as he tries to get some sort of relief. Derek doesn’t loosen his hand until the teen starts to shift his hands from tugging on Derek’s hair to petting down Derek’s face, restlessly moving from brow to cheek to long neck. “Good,” the man moans as Stiles’ breathing slows down a bit despite the fact that his cock is still hard and leaking in his hand.

Derek urges Stiles to back up, releasing his cock and guiding him to lay back onto the couch as Derek stands up. “Don’t make yourself come,” he growls as Stiles stretches out and wraps a hand around his cock.

“Totally _your_ job,” Stiles laughs out, squeezing himself lightly as he watches Derek undress at speed. “I’m just keeping it company.” He laughs again when Derek stretches out over him between his thighs, the older man grabbing his hand and dragging it up above Stiles head. “You have a plethora of kinks.”

Derek grins evilly down at him as he moves Stiles other hand up, thin wrists pressed together so that Derek can hold them in one hand. “Obviously not kinky _enough_ if you can still use words like plethora while I’m doing this.” He grinds down against Stiles, similar heights working to their advantage as their cocks line up and drag along each other, his free hand moving to rest against Stiles’ neck just above his collar bone.

The next few words that Stiles attempts come out garbled and cut-off as Derek moves against him, sweat and precome slicking the way for every thrust. “Fuck, Derek, c’mon...” Stiles arches up each time Derek thrusts down and wonders if it’s possible for two people to completely inhabit each other. Moans become rough grunts as Derek presses down against the base of his neck, using the added support to fuck against Stiles harder.

“That’s it,” Derek groans as Stiles’ eyes start fluttering. The teen pulls in a rough breath each time Derek lets up the pressure on his throat, moans cut off when the hand tightens again, his eyes fluttering as his orgasm builds inside of him like volcanic pressure. The older man shifts above Stiles and he’s about to protest after a gulping inhale until a tongue takes the place of the thumb that had been pressing in. Derek nips at his throat, licking and sucking along it’s length until he can bite down hard where neck and shoulder meet.

“Oh my _fucking_ God,” Stiles shouts, biting down on his lip as Derek releases the skin between his teeth and moves to run the tip of his tongue along the shallowest of Stiles’ injuries. The sharp frisson of pain is enough to cause the brunet to buck, shouting out with each wet stroke. A thrill rolls through him as Derek presses in closer, hips moving without rhythm, forcing both of them deeper into the couch cushion with each growling thrust.

Derek presses one last sucking kiss at the top of the scratch and pushes himself up so he can stare down at the other boy. “Now, Stiles. Please.” His words are drawn out into a sibilant hiss as Stiles whimpers underneath him. The older man leans in, sucking on Stiles’ swollen bottom lip before shoving his tongue into his mouth. Derek tastes of sweat and skin and metal. Stiles feels himself tense all over and Derek moans into his mouth as Stiles comes against him, sliding in the added slickness for another moment before he adds to it.

The pair of them breathe together, panting against each other’s mouths, until Derek finally releases his hold on Stiles’ wrists and presses up on the arm of the couch enough that they’re only touching where their legs are tangled together.

The man looks down between them and Stiles can see the way his nose flares with each inhale. “What are you thinking up there, wolf boy?” the teen asks, shifting slightly to ease his arms down into a more comfortable position.

“Licking you clean,” Derek responds in a low voice, shifting slightly. “Getting dirty again. The fact that your Dad is going to buy more guns.” Stiles groans and tilts his head back, turning it enough to kiss the arm closest to him. “But mostly the first thing.” Derek moves quickly, moving until he’s kneeling on one knee between Stiles’ legs with the other foot planted on the floor. The first touch of his tongue to the teen’s hip is enough to make him hiss and the second, third, and fourth are enough to get him moaning.

“My cock doesn’t like you right now,” Stiles mutters when Derek finally pulls away, tongue still running over his own swollen lips. The older man looks down at Stiles’ lap before looking back up with a single cocked eyebrow. “It’s also bipolar,” the teen adds. Derek smiles down at him before offering a hand to pull Stiles to his feet.

“And how does the rest of you feel about me?” Derek questions as he tugs Stiles against him, all sweaty skin and satisfied smiles.

Stiles hesitates before allowing himself to lift his arms around Derek’s neck and pressing his face against the man’s throat. 

“Warm.”


End file.
